


be sure to taste your words before you spit them out

by orphan_account



Series: errorist [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: A pitiful attempt at Denial of Feelings, Drabble, M/M, Pining, hamilton get ur shit together u big pissbaby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-17
Updated: 2016-08-17
Packaged: 2018-08-09 06:44:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7790911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All this attractive asshole has to do is walk into the same room as Hamilton, and Hamilton is already striding after him, already yelling about something new (more than likely thought up right on the spot.) An extremely small part of him that he would never ever admit to would even look forward to and anticipate Jefferson’s rebuttal.</p><p>And as it may turn out, that extremely small part of him is a lot bigger than he’d originally thought. And it may be a little less impressed and a lot more smitten than he thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	be sure to taste your words before you spit them out

**Author's Note:**

> hi im jamilton garbage forgive me Lord  
> anyways take this drabble that i just spewed out and havent looked over at all

Thomas Jefferson had always been _so much,_ always way too much, and that was exactly what Hamilton fucking hated about him.

 

The fact that they were both so explosive, so attention-grabbing (whether they meant to or not), so loud and contrasting in every aspect yet complementing one another so well.

 

The fact that everyone Hamilton had loved -- Eliza, John, Laf, and even Herc -- had never been nearly enough to satisfy him, never enough to keep him on his toes enough to keep him around, never enough to leave him wanting more, more, more.

 

And yet.

 

_And fucking yet._

 

All this attractive asshole has to do is walk into the same room as Hamilton, and Hamilton is already striding after him, already yelling about something new (more than likely thought up right on the spot.) An extremely small part of him that he would never ever admit to even looked forward to and anticipated Jefferson’s rebuttal.

 

And as it may turn out, that extremely small part of him is a lot bigger than he’d originally thought. And it may be a little less impressed and a lot more smitten than he thought.

 

Thomas Jefferson is just _so much_ that he’s more than enough for Hamilton, more than enough for the both of them, and that’s why Hamilton keeps coming back, keeps picking fights, keeps staring at the other when he’s positive no one else would notice.

 

Because that same smitten part of him feels _fulfilled_ , feels _content,_ feels  _complete_  with Jefferson but Jefferson hates him and if they’re not enemies, then what are they to each other?

 

Yet another thought that Hamilton would really rather not dwell on.

 

Maybe in a different world, they were happy together. Boyfriends, fuckbuddies, husbands -- whatever the case, Hamilton really wishes he could see into those alternate universes for just a brief, brief moment.

 

Not because he’s interested in the idea of romantic relations with the disgustingly attractive and witty Virginian who makes his heart skip beats.

 

No. Just so he can know. Just for scientific reasons.

 

‘ _And just so you know,_ ’ Hamilton often mentally justifies to himself, ‘ _that heart skipping a beat thing? It’s just because my body wants to drop dead at the sight of that motherfucker._ ’

 

The words never ring as true as he wishes they did.

 

“And one other thing…” The ferocity in Hamilton’s snarl fades with each word. One look at Jefferson and he knows he let his expression drop into something glassy, something not quite _there_ in the argument they’re having. He knows the other got a quick glimpse at his reaction to his own pathetic train of thought.

 

He hates it. He hates the way Jefferson furrows his brows ever-so-slightly. He hates the pity in Jefferson’s frowning lips. Scratch that, he hates Jefferson’s lips in general. He hates Jefferson.

 

He didn’t need pity from, of all people, Thomas motherfucking Jefferson.

 

So he hardens his expression once more, watching as Jefferson does the same only moments later, and launches himself into another spiel about something that, honestly? He doesn’t care about as much as he’s making it sound.

 

And if his voice raises to the point where he’s screeching words that are nearly incoherent? If he cusses and insults more than usual? If he gets all up in Jefferson's face? Then that’s completely normal. That’s just short-tempered, annoying, unlovable Hamilton being short-tempered, annoying, unlovable Hamilton.

 

The contempt in Jefferson’s eyes as he dismantles every point Hamilton made and wraps up his counterargument may sting but it doesn’t matter, it’ll never change anything. Nothing will, at this point.

 

Because this is their relationship. This is what they created out of nothing. This is what they _are_. This is what Jefferson wants so this is what Hamilton will settle for.

 

It feels pathetic. Hamilton’s never settled for anything in his life, so why is he agreeing to be treated like this? Why is he letting himself yearn after fucking _Jefferson_ and then turn around and deny the feeling in his gut that makes itself known when there’s an impressed glint in Jefferson’s eyes from Hamilton’s tenacity? Why is he doing this to himself?

 

Oh right, because he’s Alexander Hamilton. He deserves this pain, he craves it.

  
After all, pain is all he’s ever known.

**Author's Note:**

> tbh i was a hamburr shipper but. here i am. garbage for these two loud-ass motherfuckers hhh


End file.
